Concrete Angel
by Kiss-This2010
Summary: A man looks back upon his sister's strength and faith before and after her death. Songfic to Concrete Angel by Martina McBride.


This will be the second grave he has visited today. First, he went to Godric's Hollow and knelt beside Lily Evan's stone. She will never be Lily Potter to him, never. This particular grave is set back away from most on top of hill beneath an old oak tree. Sitting down, he began to think back to when it got bad.

_She walks to school with a lunch she packed __  
__Nobody knows what she's holding back; __  
__Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday, __  
__She hides the bruises with the linen and lace; _

Angelyne exited the house through the back door. She did not stop to say good-bye or say, "I love you." They did not care where she was anyway. In two years, she would start at Hogwarts, where her brother went. Hogwarts equaled freedom. Until then she had to please her father and continue with her normal, Muggle, schooling. Her brother only returned during the summer and hardly wrote home. In a way, this was best, because it did not give a reason for her parents to start arguing again, but Angelyne needed encouragement to keep going. Her brother only saw his own freedom and took it. Not that she blamed him, of course, but sometimes she wished she had someone to talk with.

She wrapped her jacket tighter around her shoulders, jerked her skirt down towards her knees, and pulled up her stockings so hardly any skin showed at all. This usually worked. No one ever saw anything this way. Last night, her mother had burned the dinner and she could not get away fast enough. Large bruises had formed on her shoulder and neck. The neck was easy to cover up as long as she wore a collared shirt and she owned one for every day of the week, just in case. The cut above her eye had been there for a week already and had begun to heal.

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask, __  
__It's hard to see the pain behind the mask; __  
__Bearing the burden of a secret storm, __  
__Sometimes she wishes she was never born; _

Mrs. Robinson excused her homework again, as usual. Angelyne felt bad for her teacher; the poor woman did not know what to do. Best that nothing is said, and all is better at home. Her parents ignored the scars and bruises, why can't everyone else? Her father had broken her brother's nose three summers ago, the year he got his letter. Her mum had to tell the family then. She was a witch, and their children would be magical too.

Why had her powers not shown yet, then? Was she not magical? Was she a failure? Her parents sure thought so. Her father told her mother and her that everyday. That he was ashamed to call them family. Her brother had suffered his eleven years of it, and then he had gone off to school. During the summer, he was always playing with the Evans girl from down the road and never wanted his little sister around. Maybe she was a nuisance and a failure. After all, that is what everyone said.

_Through the wind and the rain, __  
__She stands hard as a stone in a world that she can't rise above; __  
__But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place where she's loved._   
_Concrete Angel _

After school, Angelyne returned home and found the house empty. This was good news, now she could do her homework. Her grades need all the help they can get. What if she fails mathematics? Or science? Will they still accept her at Hogwarts? Her brother says that Muggle schooling has nothing to do with magic, as long as you knew how to read. She knew how to read. After she finished and her parents still were not home, she went to the kitchen and stocked her arms with all the food she could carry. This way she would not have to come out of her room for dinner. She could lock herself up for the night.

From under her bed, Angelyne pulled out a three letters and a couple of photographs. Her brother wrote once a year to ensure that he had arrived to Hogwarts fine, and to send her pictures of the school. The castle was enormous, larger than anything she had ever seen before, and this was just in the pictures. They were moving. Her brother had learned to develop them magically. She could not wait to learn. Every day she would look at these pictures. It gave her the hope to keep living strong, to continue fighting. The pain could be overcome as long as she had something in life to look forward to.

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night, __  
__The neighbors hear but they turn out the lights; __  
__A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate, __  
__When morning comes it will be too late._

The door slammed below and Angelyne's heart raced. She could already hear the shouting. It might be work, money, food, or Mum. Little things set him off when he was drinking. It was a Friday night- he was drinking. Last week, she had accidentally left her school bag in the living room, instead of taking it up to her room. She had paid greatly for that. Her mother stood in the corner as normal. With her brother gone, she had no one to shield her. Friday was a scary day; she never knew what to expect.

The door to her room opened and her father came in swearing and stumbling. How he walked all the way to her room, she had no idea. Her mother pleaded for him to go to bed, or go in the kitchen and eat dinner. A slap silenced his wife. Her mother had learned only to protest once, for sometimes, it was enough, but it was better not to push it. Angelyne could not understand much of what he was saying. The words slurred together and her heart pounded in her ears. The pictures were out on the bed- she had not had time to hide them. His right fist caught her cheek and she landed on the floor. The hits kept coming. The yelling never stopped. No one tried to help.

_Through the wind and the rain, __  
__She stands hard as a stone in a world that she can't rise above; __  
__But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place where she's loved. __  
__Concrete Angel _

From the corner of her eye, she could see the pictures. She could see her brother smiling and waving eagerly at her. What she would give to be there, or to have him with her now. No, she could not wish that on him. He had escaped. He deserved to be free. For years he had taken both of their punishments to try to save her from the dark, but now, there was no one to save her. The air was harder and harder to get. Her lungs screamed for oxygen. Her father's hand held her throat. Her body hurt from his kicks and punches. Blood trickled from her left side of her temple, trailing to the floor.

Angelyne stared at her brother and whispered, "Good-bye." She said, "I love you." The words sounded strange on her lips, through her faltering breathe. She had only said them three times before, every year when her brother left for school. She had only heard those words three times before, when he returned the gesture. Now she would be free. Free like her brother would be now, for he would have no reason to come home. Her parents would be free to have no children, and maybe this would make them happy. She would be free now. Her last breath came one of relief; she could live out her name's meaning: Angel.

_A statue stands in a shaded place, __  
__An angel girl with an upturned face; __  
__Her name is written on a polished rock, __  
__A broken heart that the world forgot._

The man wept bitterly, not as he had done at Lily Evans's grave. There, it had been tears of sorrow. Here it was regret. He could have done something; he should have been there. Why had he not been there? When she had needed him the most, he had abandoned her. For a whole six months, he did not hear of her death. His parents had not bothered to write, and he had no friends to sympathize him. He returned home from his third year at school to find her grave at the base of the oak tree where they had played as children. Their childhood had been short. He never considered her a child, even though she had died at the age of nine. She was more of an adult than either of his parents was, or any of the older students he knew at school.

He had carved the stone that sat at the head of it. The inscription was what his sister deserved. Sometimes, when he was alone, he would think about her. The young girl had so much potential. Even though she did not see it, her magic surpassed that of his when he began to show his wizarding powers. He never knew how she died exactly, but knew it was at his father's harsh hand. When he went up to her room before he left home for good, he had found letters written in his own hand. Now, he wished he had written more. He never realized how much the letters meant to her. He regrets not being there for her- his Angel, his sister.

_Through the wind and the rain, __  
__She stands hard as a stone in a world that she can't rise above; __  
__But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place where she's loved._

_Concrete Angel_

He traced a finger on the grave where her name was carved. _Angelyne Eileen Snape. May you rest in peace, my Guardian Angel. _Severus Snape walked away from the grave for the last time. He knew that the time had come and his death was near. Angelyne had watched over him all these years, protecting him. Now, she was calling him home. Duty called, and it was time to fight. He took one last look at the tree and whispered, "Good-bye, Angelyne. I love you."

**A/N: **I wrote this for Ginnypotternic5 who requested it a long time ago. Sorry it took so long! I just had to think of the right character, because I didn't want it to be too AU, like a Hermione fic or something. I know Snape didn't have a sister, but this would fit if he did. Thanks for reading (and you can review too, I'd like that).


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